So close,

And yet so far

I nearly have you in my grasp

But you manage to slip away

I know you like me

I know

But when it comes down to it

I'm too shy

And you're too slow.

Why is the first move always so difficult?

For even when you know the answer

The question eases it's way to the tip of your tongue,

Only to be swallowed back down

To the pit of your stomach where the butterflies fly.